Happy Holidays! Or happy regular Sunday if you don't celebrate, or don't feel like celebrating anything.
Day 25: Write about knitting.
It was Christmas morning, and as the MCRT knew from years past, crime didn't stop for any kind of tradition. Thankfully, most interviews and field work had finished the day before. All they could do at the moment was run down the few leads they had left.
Tony was waiting to hear back from a buddy at Metro, and was thumbing through the GSM Christmas special. From the corner of his eye he saw Ziva hang up her phone, jot something down, and duck under her desk.
He sat up a little straighter, hoping to get a better view of what she was doing. It only took a moment before she popped back up and walked over to him, hands behind her back.
Her small smile piqued his interest and he put down the magazine. Even a fully dressed Ziva was more fun than pictures of scantily clad women wearing Christmas hats and stockings.
Maybe he should get Ziva a Christmas hat?
"Merry Christmas, Tony," she said, still smiling, and perhaps a little too eager, as she placed a gift on his desk.
"You're my Secret Santa?" he said pleasantly surprised.
He only waited long enough for her to nod enthusiastically before tearing away the wrapping paper. He ran his fingers over the sweater lying on his desk, enjoying the softness.
"Ziva, this looks nice, love the color," he said as he met her gaze.
"I knitted it," she said proudly.
"I didn't know you could knit," Tony said, holding the sweater out in front of him. He raised an eyebrow taking in the uneven sleeves. "Maybe you should've started with a scarf," he deadpanned.
He watched her face fall, remembered she had knitting needles, somewhere, and added, "But, if I push up the sleeves a bit, you probably won't notice."
"I knew I should have gotten you a DVD instead," she said and turned around to walk back to her desk.
"No, wait, " he said and she stopped in between their desks.
He removed his sweater, and tried on his gift as he walked to stand next to her.
Ziva looked him up and down. "Huh, I thought it might have been too small."
"Are you commenting on my winter body?"
She opened and closed her mouth, shaking her head with wide eyes. Then she rubbed a hand over his stomach, and said, "It is really soft though, isn't it?"
The smile that had appeared when she started rubbing his stomach fell just as quickly as it had appeared. "You better be talking about the sweater and not my stomach."